CHAPTER IX.
IN WHICH I MEET OTHER GREAT MEN It was a sunny day in late September on which Aunt Deel and Uncle Peabody took me and my little pine chest with all my treasures in it to the village where I was to go to school and live with the family of Mr.
Michael Hacket, the schoolmaster.

I was proud of the chest, now equipped with iron hinges and a hasp and staple.

Aunt Deel had worked hard to get me ready, sitting late at her loom to weave cloth for my new suit, which a traveling tailor had fitted and made for me.

I remember that the breeches were of tow and that they scratched my legs and made me very uncomfortable, but I did not complain.

My uncle used to say that nobody with tow breeches on him could ride a horse without being thrown--they pricked so.
The suit which I had grown into--"the Potsdam clothes," we called them often, but more often "the boughten clothes"-- had been grown out of and left behind in a way of speaking.